Only Amer­i­cans could make a storm out of a teacup

Midweek Sport - - NEWS -

IT got that cold overnight last week­end that I found my­self awake in the mid­dle of the night won­der­ing whether to turn on the heat­ing.

Then I thought: “F*** ‘ em – that’s why we bought py­ja­mas for the ex­pen­sive lit­tle bas­tards.”

And as I stood shiv­er­ing in the dark, hop­ing at least some of my weary night wee was mak­ing it in the vague di­rec­tion of the toi­let, it oc­curred to me that – chilly though it was – it wasn’t a big deal.

Same as a cou­ple of weeks ago when the wind was that bad round our way that my late night adult chan­nel grum­blings were rudely in­ter­rupted by my Sky dish shud­der­ing in the gales.

What DIDN’T hap­pen on ei­ther oc­ca­sion was the world’s press de­scend­ing on the out­side of our place with their satel­lite trucks, re­lief he­li­copters and TV re­porters wear­ing c***ing sou’west­ers go­ing live while lean­ing into the wind.

You see, I live near the coast in the north west of Eng­land and up here we tend to re­fer to such events as “the weather”.

Whereas in the US of F***ing A, it’s ap­par­ently called “A Real Life Dis­as­ter Movie”.


Any­one watch­ing CNN could be for­given for think­ing that the tsunami that al­most drowned the en­tire na­tion of Ja­pan last year was small beer com­pared to so-called “Su­per­storm” Sandy.

Su­per­storm? Are they hav­ing a laugh? It’s only around 80mph – a breeze, where I live. And it’s even got a girl’s name, for f***’s sake.

Com­ing soon to a mul­ti­plex near you: Bruce Wil­lis tasked by Pres­i­dent Mor­gan Free­man to save the earth with a large um­brella and a foot pump.

Drama queen c***s.

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